


He Wants a Bit of The Green Stuff

by orphan_account



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Manipulative Megatron, Other, Precious awesome Bulkhead, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, dubcon, more to Bulky than just clumsy strength, robot secks! (sex)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 09:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7569466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've tracked down Cybertron's top space bridge expert, but he's not on Cybertron."</p>
<p>"Then where is he?"</p>
<p>Shockwave's great red optic shuttered, "On Earth."</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Wants a Bit of The Green Stuff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rampantidiocy18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rampantidiocy18/gifts).



> This is one of those crazy random ideas you get while watching an episode and you ignore it for four years, but its a persistant little shit so you finally cave late at night. ~enjoy!

"Shockwave."

The warlord sat back, staring cooly at his antlered operative on the screen as he reported from his hidden place among those fools at the Autobot's inteligence center, "Everything is going as planned, oh great one. As you predicted, the Decepticon uprisings at the rim of the galaxy are straining Autobot forces to the breaking point."

Shockwave never failed to get straight to the progress of his infiltration, always precise and to the point, if not dotting on the merits of his leader, and while his loyalty wasn't quite on the same level as Lugnut's, Megatron found he could handle it all the same. It usually didn't irk the grey war build to let the spy have his little moments, but in this instance he would have to cut the subtle worshiping short.

Before the one opticed Decepticon could carry on Megatron spoke, "Excellent, but I have a more immediate problem. Track down Cybertron's top space bridge technician and deliver him to Earth as soon as possible. By any means necessary. The future of Decepticon victory depends on it."

There was a faint sound of typing from beyond the screen as Shockwave imediately began a search, "One moment, excellency. While I access the Cybertronian data net... Oh, that's odd."

Megatron frowned, "What is?"

"I've tracked down Cybertron's top space bridge expert, but he's not on Cybertron."

"Then where is he?"

Shockwave's great red optic shuttered, "On Earth."

The dark warframe's reactionary smile was not the friendly sort, "How convenient, his designation and batch number if you would, Shockwave."

"Ah, this autobot is a rather unique case, according to his file he scored higher than any Cybertron scientists on his space bridge aptitude test yet seems to have no other discernable skills-"

"A designation, Shockwave, and a batch number.

"Designation: Bulkhead. Batch number- ..hmm."

The gray and red mech leaned forward in his seat, "What is it now?" by his tone the leader's tolerance was wanning quickly.

"My lord, it seems the rest of this file has been purged from the system, but it left behind a risidual signature I can track. Just one moment, my lord. Aaand- oh.."

Megatron had never been accused of an over abundance of patience," So help me Shockwave, if I have to get up and come there I'll-"

"It would appear this autobot is not a batch mech. In fact, he's not a cold-formed at all. And space bridges aren't the only thing he's the foremost expert of."

Megatron sighed, holding back a growl of frustration , "Shockwave, I don't scrapping care if he's the greatest fragging expert in anything other than what I need him for."

The blunt language didn't faze the operative one bit, "Interesting, my lord, that you should mention fragging because that is Autobot Bulkhead's primary function."

The gray mech's glare would have purged the waste tank of any other bot, "What are you talking about?"

"The Autobot, Bulkhead. The erased file claims he is a Sparked Carrier of Companion standing."

Megatron didn't react for a moment, his anger forgotten with this new information. When he spoke next his voice had softened considerably.

"Where did those arrogant, dispicable council bobbles have him assigned?"

"To the stockades of course. I've noticed, my lord, that the autobot council believe themselves above that which they don't understand. They wouldn't dare soil their reputations and positions by laying a servo on him. They-"

"You are seriously mistaken if from what you gather the council are a lot of stiff prudes."

The mech on the screen faltered, "My lord?"

Megatron stood, drawing himself up to his fullest hight, and met optics with his subordinate, "You're the most clever inteligence officer under my command. Believe me when I say this mech is far from undamaged."

The spy's helm tilted to the side, regarding his leader thoughtfully, "... then what would you do with this damaged autobot, Lord Megatron?"

Descending from his temporary throne and turning his back to the screen, the warlord began making his way towards the containment field that held the organic, Isaac Sumdac.

"Why, I am going to take advantage of course."

~~~~~~

Bulkhead struggled with all his might and strength, but for once his considerable size didn't lend him any advantage. The heavy pedes grinding down into his shoulders and back struts kept him throughly smashed into the ground. Anger, bright and volitile raced through his circuits. The only part of him, he could move was his ringing helm, which ached from being angled awkwardly to keep the view of the active Headmaster unit hovering threateningly above him.

It felt sickeningly ironic that he was prepared to die before he would build a space bridge when that's the only thing he'd ever enjoyed applying himself to before he'd discovered canvas and paint. It had been the one passion he'd chosen for himself that others hadn't influenced or forbbiden, something that made him feel worth the spark in his chest; his special, pure purpose.

Unlike most everything in his life space bridges MADE PERFECT SENSE.

And it seemed like the most perverse thing now that he was being forced to preform against his will. Again.

Bulkhead's mind swam in frantic, contending thoughts. On one servo, assisting Decepticon's with anything (let alone the invasion of Cybertron) was an act of unthinkable treason. On the other... they had Sari's dad!

These sick Decepticons had Sari's father, and they were using the professor's life against him. He could let them extinguish his spark, but he would never let them extinguish Sumdac's.

He had no choice, but he had to have a choice. There is always some other choice. Optimus, Ratchet, definitely Prowl, and probably even Bee would know what to do! Bulkhead wanted to scream as he felt his optics begin to well. Someone was going to die if he didn't betray his friends. The only friends he'd ever had.

 

Megatron refrained from showing his pleasure as he watched the awkward green autobot come to grips with the impossibility of his situation. When the mech's optics began to spill coolant Megatron came forward and knelt in front of the autobot's highly distressed EM field.

With motivated gentleness he lifted the younger mech's helm and gathered the wetness from those widened optics on the end of a black digit. He appeared to study the liquid for a few tense moments before meeting Bulkhead's gaze.

"It's exhausting isn't it, being weighed your measure and used as such?"

Bulkhead tried to jerk away, but Megatron's servo kept him there with a firm grip. "Bulkhead," he sighed, "there's no one to play soldier for here."

This earned the Decepticon lord a harsh snort, "Last time I checked accademy dropouts weren't soldiers." 

Red optics narrowed slightly, "Your check was indeed thorough, you are are no soldier. So stop acting like one." 

This garnered silence, but Megatron wasn't looking to belittle the young mech, "You are trying too hard for that sorry team of yours." 

Bulkhead didn't exactly paint a fierce picture in the position he was in, but there could be something said for the steal in his tone, "How dare you?" 

The warlord didn't flinch or smirk, "Why else would you refuse to help me liberate our home planet if not to prove yourself to them? Trust me, you don't need to represent the backbone of the 'great autobot machine'; that's a deminitive slogan, and you don't exactly look like you conform." 

"You don't know me and you don't know them!" 

Megatron chuckled lowly, rubbing the smooth metal of the autobot's cheeks, "I know you could care less what I do to you right now so long as the human remains unharmed." 

The Autobot stiffened. 

"You'd let me do anything... because you care." 

The coolant flowed anew, Bulkhead's helm growing heavy in the warlord's palm as he gave in, "Please, please- I'll build your stupid space bridge."

Megatron frowned, "And that's how it's been your entire life, Carrier." 

It was a statement. Not a question. 

Bulkhead's optics shuttered out to offline-grey, "I know perfectly well... wh-what I am- I know my place." 

"Fool." Megatron then addressed the others, "We are not to be disturbed."

The pressure holding Bulkhead down was lifted, and suddenly he was being hauled to his pedes and lead away from the gathered group of decepticons. His helm swam and his steps were clumsy, but he knew better than to resist the warlord as Megatron pulled him by his servo.

What was going to happen to him? To the earth people? His friends?

The Autobot almost wished he was a couple lightyears away from this Decepticon underground prison and back at his old prison, Cybertron.

Bulkhead didn't notice them entering a dimly lit room or that he was silently crying coolant again until he felt a surface knock against the back of his knees.

A berth. Megatron's berth.

The autobot looked up, stricken, at the emotionless, dark face so very near his own and found nothing but superiority and brilliant rustic red gazing back. Megatron's gaze flicked from the autobot's to the berth behind him, the simple motion more than a gesture or suggestion, an unquestionable command. 

"No. P-please no." Bulkhead's voice broke in a trembling plea even as he lay himself back on the berth, "I said- I promise you I'll build your bridge. Please, I'm good on my word." 

The Decepticon's response struck cold, "Of that, I have no doubt."

A hoarse sob left the younger mech as he nodded his helm like he understood his submission was unavoidable. Inevitable. Necessary. 

Megatron simmered in disgust and anger as he watched the young, damaged Carrier cover his face with trembling servos gifted to one chosen by Primus to crush and build great, terrible, and beautiful things. 

Doing his pitiful best to keep his choked sound's under control Bulkhead spread his thick thighs widley apart for the other's convinience and stilled but for his noticeable shudders. His interface remained covered, but he was so open, defeated, waiting.

"Make it quick, please. M-make it fast." 

The metal chamber encasing the warlord's life force burned with the rage pulsing hard through his passionate spark. This display of an obvious past of abuse at the servos of those wretched senators solidified his life oath to uproot autobot society and bring about the decimation of the ruling government and it's brainwashed citizens all the more totally. 

Megatron would destroy his home planet of Cybertron for all their sakes. Then he would build it back up for the wronged, the used, and the mighty; make it into a haven for those like this mech, and he would rule their world how it was meant to be.

But first.

Megatron raised one knee up onto the berth, "You want it fast?"

Bulkhead felt the berth dip considerably and shrank into his shoulders as much as he could, but otherwise didn't move. Just the thought of all that was to happen filled his spark with overwhelming fear and, dismayed, he felt lubricant begin to slip out of his valve and build up behind his cover. 

He'd been in this position before, his body knew what came next.

Megatron's olfactory senses picked up on the younger mech's escalating condition, "Want me to take you hard, little autobot?"

Bulkhead shook his helm, but whispered, "Please."

Large servos trailed pressing fingers from the heels of his pedes to grip tightly at his thighs.

"Carrier... "

"Please..." but he couldn't hardly stand to utter the word.

"Hmmmm.."

The warmth of heated metal not his own bumped against the already leaking panel between the gap below his bulky green hips. The warlord's weight now settled over him.

Just when he couldn't hate himself anymore, "P-please."


End file.
